


tighten the rope around my heart

by akamine_chan



Category: Bandom, Frank Iero and the Patience, My Chemical Romance, frnkiero andthe cellabration
Genre: F/F, F/M, Kink Negotiation, Light Bondage, Polyamory, Rope Bondage, Safeword Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 22:14:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9036467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/pseuds/akamine_chan
Summary: Loving someone means being willing to explore new things with them. Even if the new things aren't so new to you.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [were_duck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/were_duck/gifts).



> For were_duck, because they are awesome.
> 
> Many, many thanks to my International Writing Group (Jiksa, Prophetic, and LadySmutterella) who provided endless cheering and support, and also invaluable beta comments that helped shape this story in important ways. This story wouldn't have gotten done without you ladies, so thank you. *smooches you all*
> 
> Additional beta work provided by Ande, as always.
> 
> Extra special thanks to Prophetic for being my partner in fail-y flailing. <3 <3 <3

It slips his mind, and by the time Gerard remembers, it's almost dinnertime in L.A. He checks his phone, but there are no missed calls, no texts, nothing. He frowns and calls Frank, pushing away from his desk and stretching.

It goes straight to voicemail.

"Weird," he mutters.

And it is. When Frank says he'll call, he _does_. There's a current of uneasiness, but Gerard knows that Jamia would have definitely let him know if something was wrong, so maybe Frank just got tied up somewhere.

He shoots off a quick text, just to reassure himself. _u ok?_

It's late when Frank finally texts back, _yeah_ , but even that single word carries a sense of. . .disquiet.

Gerard leans over and presses a kiss to Lindsey's bare shoulder before sliding out from under the covers and padding into his office. He doesn't hesitate, just calls, in spite of the hour.

"Frank?"

There's a weird silence from Frank, echoing down the phone line, and now Gerard's starting to worry. He senses Frank's anxiousness in the hesitation. "Frankie?”

Frank inhales, slow and deep. "Hi, Gee."

"What's wrong?" Because it's really clear to Gerard at this point that something _is_ wrong. "Jamia, the kids—" The bottom drops out of his stomach as his imagination starts to take off.

There's a half-hearted chuckle. "No, Gerard, everyone's fine."

"Except you."

Frank just breathes for a few minutes and Gerard has to concentrate on slowly cracking his knuckles, one hand at a time, to keep from bombarding Frank with questions. Frank'll talk, but in his own damn time.

Sometimes it's almost impossible to wait out Frank's silences.

"Something happened at the photoshoot. . ." His voice trails off and Gerard's stomach lurches.

"Frank—"

"No, no, Gee, nothing bad. Just—"

Gerard takes a deep breath of his own. "Tell me what happened. Start at the beginning."

"Okay," Frank sighs. He clears his throat. "The photoshoot, the photographer, Justine, wanted to do a casual background, with me dressed up a little bit, for contrast, y'know?"

"Made you wear a tie?"

Frank laughs, rueful. "Yeah, the whole nine yards: slacks, shirt, tie."

"Combed your hair." Gerard is _very_ aware of how nicely Frank cleans up, tattoos peeking out from under formal clothes. "Nice."

"Fuck you, you don't even know what a brush is for."

Gerard shrugs, because he can't argue with that. "Pretty much."

"Justine had hung up a bunch of drop cloths, like she was trying to do this parachute thing, and she tied this rough rope around my hands, like it was really scratchy, and it wasn't tight at all, more like just wrapped around my wrists and—" He inhales, a little unsteady. "And—"

"And what, Frankie?" he asks softly.

"—I don't know. It made me feel. . .weird."

"A good weird?" Gerard coaxes.

"I don't know," he repeats. He sounds so lost, and it makes Gerard's heart flutter in his chest. "It wasn't a bad weird, but looking down at my hands and seeing them tied up, feeling the rope against my skin, it was scary and exciting and—" The words tumble out, fast and staccato.

Gerard waits for Frank to continue.

Frank swallows loudly. "And I want you to help me figure out what this is, what I'm—whatever I'm feeling—"

Gerard's shoulders sag in relief, and he almost laughs, because only Frank would work himself up over a kink. _This_ he can handle. "All right. I can help with that, if you want. Did you talk to Jamia about it?"

"No," Frank snorts, a little defensive. "Not—not yet. I'm not ready—"

"Frank," he says gently. "Maybe you should—"

"No!" Frank shouts, startling Gerard. "No," he says again, softer. "Not until I figure out what this _is_ , what if it's not safe, or if it ruins everything—"

"It won't," Gerard says, but he knows it's futile to try to convince Frank. Frank has to _know_ for himself. That's always been one of Frank's most annoying characteristics: he can't take anyone's word on things.

"I just have to be sure."

"All right. I'll check my schedule, see what I can do."

"I told Jamia you were coming for a visit, but she thinks it's just our usual thing."

Gerard can't help it, his voice drops into a husky purr. "Does she want to watch again? I'm sure we can put on a good show."

Frank laughs, and he sounds relieved. "I'll ask."

* * *

Gerard has to a dig a little to find his kit; it's been a few years since it's seen any use, probably not since Bandit was born. He realizes that he's missed playing.

The ropes are inky black. Gerard had bought them after the first time Lindsey had used her scarf to tie his hands to the headboard. He'd found them at a high-end boutique in Manhattan and they replaced the plain rope he'd had before.

They'd been worth every penny he'd spent.

He'd loved the way the black rope stood out in heavy contrast to his pale skin; almost like the lines of a tattoo banded across his chest, wrapped around his arms, wrists. It made him feel different, brighter somehow.

Before Lindsey, Gerard hadn't really understood what trust meant. It wasn't until she'd tied him spread eagle to the bed and looked at him, _seeing_ the man behind the masks and he couldn't stop her, that's when he'd started to get it. And then, she took away his treasured control, broke him apart piece by piece before putting him back together. . .that's when it all made sense.

He’d let Lindsey in, and once he'd opened that door, it couldn't be shut again, and it was like he was a whole new person.

The kit has migrated to the back of their closet, up on a high shelf well out of reach of curious little hands. Gerard pulls it down and shivers, remembering the way the ropes would dig into his flesh.

Gerard has a reputation for being the stereotypical messy artist, but when it comes to his tools, he's meticulous. A place for everything, and everything in its place. Ropes, blindfold, flogger, safety shears, suspension ring, carabiners. Beeswax for the rope.

He knows that Frank is just curious, exploring a kink he never realized he had, so Gerard probably won't need anything more than the rope and the shears, but he takes everything, just in case. 

"Yeah, totally just gonna help a friend work out some kinks. Very altruistic. Such a good friend." Gerard laughs at himself. "Yeah, right."

* * *

Gerard has meetings in New York that he's been putting off, so he makes plans for a week back East, visiting friends and family in addition to his meetings. His mother insists that he come home for dinner at least one night while he's back in Jersey, and Jamia promises to make him her infamous vegan lasagne.

In spite of his mom pointing out that the guest room at the house is empty and waiting, he books a suite in a nicer hotel. It's expensive, but the cheaper places have less soundproofing, and there's a good chance that Frank's going to be loud.

Frank's usually really _noisy_ when they fuck, and Gerard's pretty sure his smile is a little predatory.

Gerard's had some time to settle in before there's a knock at the door. "Frank." He wraps his hand around Frank's neck and pulls him into the room, then into his arms, squeezing tight. "I've missed you; it's been too long."

It's been a couple of months since their schedules have synced up enough to spend time together, and sometimes Gerard hates the way their lives have led them in completely different directions.

"Gerard," Frank says softly, and his arms are tight around Gerard's waist, face pressed against Gerard's shoulder. There's a subtle tension running through Frank's body, a stiffness in the set of his shoulders.

Gerard knows that Frank won't talk until he's damn well ready to, so he doesn't push. He'll get it out of him eventually.

He kisses Frank's temple. "Want something to eat, drink? Sit down and—"

"No." Frank takes a deep breath and visibly collects himself. "Sorry, no, I just want to—" He looks at Gerard, bites at his bottom lip. "Can we just get on with it?"

Gerard thinks of all the things that need to be discussed before a scene, any scene, and it's clear that Frank won't sit still for it. He's unsettled by the idea of not talking things out, but it's _Frank_ , who's known for doing everything in the most difficult way possible. "All right. Go into the bedroom, take off whatever you're comfortable with, and wait for me." 

He waits for a moment, listening to Frank's progress through the suite. His stomach is twisted in knots, but when he holds out his hands, they're steady. He can do this.

* * *

Frank's stripped down to his underwear, his clothes folded neatly and piled on the dresser. He's absolutely gorgeous, tattoos splashed bold and bright over his skin. There are a few new ones that Gerard hasn't seen before, and he wants to explore them, but the way Frank's bouncing his legs makes it clear how impatient he is.

His kit is open on the bed next to Frank, and he's staring at it, wide-eyed. "Where did you get it?" His finger traces over the metal of the suspension ring. "I Googled, looked around on the internet, but—"

Gerard is confused. "I've had this stuff for awhile," he says, and then realizes that Frank thinks he went out and bought the rope just for this. "This isn't new to me," he adds, smiling.

"Oh." Frank looks surprised, and Gerard wants to roll his eyes, but refrains.

"So, normally, there's a lot of talking that happens before I tie someone up—" He holds up a hand to stave off Frank's automatic protest. "—but I'm going to boil it down to the basics for this time only. Next time, if there is a next time, you're gonna have to talk to me." Gerard can't help the chuckle that escapes at Frank's twisted-up do-not-want face.

He waits until Frank nods, a little grudgingly. "Okay."

"Okay." He pulls the shears out and holds them up. "The basics. EMT shears, also known as safety or trauma shears. Cuts through almost anything, including the rope we'll be using. Anytime you play with rope, with me, with anyone, they should always be out." He hands them over to Frank to examine, because Frank always needs to _use_ things to really understand them.

"Here," he offers, holding out his arm. Frank carefully cuts at the sleeve of Gerard's shirt, looking impressed at how easily the fabric parts under the metal. "Rope bondage always has the potential to be dangerous. You can't eliminate all the risks, but you can minimize the ones that you _do_ take."

"Hmmm." Frank tilts the shears one way, then the other, examining them before setting them aside on the night stand. "I thought it was called shibari," he says, eyebrow arching. 

And that's Frank down to the fucking core, a smartass. Gerard shrugs. "Shibari. Kinbaku. Rope work. Bondage play. You wanna discuss semantics right now?" Gerard's pretty into this, and he loves showing Frank new things, but at the same time, the way Frank tests every boundary, pushes every limit, drives him crazy sometimes.

It makes him _itch_ ; he wants to shove a gag in Frank's mouth, tie him down, make him take and take and _take_ —

Gerard blows out a breath and centers himself, ignoring Frank's smirk. "What's your safeword?"

He looks disappointed at Gerard's lack of reaction. "Pumpkin."

"All right." Gerard picks up a coil of rope, letting it slide through his fingers. "You know how this works, right? If you're uncomfortable, if you want to slow down or stop, if something's wrong, you just say your safeword and the scene ends." Frank is staring at the rope, his attention wholly captured by the way it moves through Gerard's hands. "Frank?"

His eyes snap back up to Gerard's, and his cheeks are flushed. "Yeah. I wanna stop, I say my word." His voice is rough.

Nodding, Gerard threads his fingers through the bight of the rope before folding the length in half. He doesn't have to look down to know that Frank is already hard. "Is there anything you absolutely want or don't want to do in this scene?"

"What do you—"

"You want to fuck?" Gerard can't tell if Frank's being deliberately obtuse or not. "You wanna be spanked, punished, slapped, made to cry? Some of that? None of that? It's not all about sex."

"Oh."

 _That_ tells Gerard everything he needs to know about Frank's limits for the session. "Okay, so let's stick to the rope work this time around."

"No, I want—" Frank's irritated. "Why do I have to verbalize everything? Why can't we just—" He makes a wavy motion with his hand.

"Because I'm not a mind reader, and I don't want to hurt you unless you've asked me to."

He huffs, still annoyed. "I want kisses. I miss kissing you." He crosses his arms across his chest. "Touching is good, too."

Gerard nods. He can totally work with that. "Okay. Do you want me to tell you what I'm doing as I do it, or—"

"No, no, I want to know—"

Gerard stifles a laugh, because Frank will complain about Gerard never, _ever_ shutting up, but he loves it when Gerard talks dirty.

"Okay. Go ahead and lay down, get comfortable. I'm going to start by tying your arms together." He waits until Frank finishes squirming around before kneeling next to him. He positions Frank's forearms so they're parallel to each other, above his stomach. "This is a two column tie, probably one of the most useful ties. It's used to connect two 'columns,' where a column can be an arm, a leg, a headboard, a post."

He winds the rope carefully around Frank's wrists several times, making sure that the hemp lies flat. "It's important to keep the rope from crossing over or tangling; it ruins the clean visual and increases the risk of nerve damage or circulatory problems."

Gerard lets the ends of the rope dangle. "Depending on the length of your rope, you can make the cuff wide or narrow."

"It's loose, is it supposed to be this loose?" Frank pulls and the rope unwinds a bit. He's breathing a little fast, and he licks at his lips.

Patiently, Gerard rewraps the rope. "Yes, it's supposed to be this loose, because—" He threads the rope between Frank's hands, wraps them around the coils of rope and cinches it tight.

Frank's gasp is loud.

"Now I tie it off with a simple knot and it's done." Gerard is stunned by how gorgeous Frank's hands look wrapped in the rope, the colors and strong lines of his tattoos standing out. He checks to make sure the tie isn't too tight, touches Frank's fingers to ensure that the circulation isn't being cut off.

"Oh God," Frank says faintly. He clenches his hands, and as Gerard watches, Frank struggles to relax them.

"How's that feel?" Gerard's voice is lower, quieter, because he doesn't want to disturb the intimacy he feels right now. He touches Frank, smoothing his hand from shoulder to where the rope starts, and back up his arms. Frank shivers.

"Gerard, oh fuck, I—it's—I _can't_ —"

"Do you want to use your word?"

Frank bites his bottom lip, hard. Gerard can see the way his teeth indent the flesh. It's going to be swollen later, and Gerard loves that Frank will have a physical reminder of what they've done. "No, no, I'm fine—"

"Okay." Gerard presses a kiss to the corner of Frank's mouth. He moves down the bed a little, leaning to grab another length of rope. "I'm going to do the same thing to your legs, tie them together at the ankles."

Gerard takes a few minutes to rub Frank's feet, thumb firm against the arches to keep from tickling him. Maybe some other time, he'll tie Frank up and tickle him until he comes or safewords out. The idea is intriguing. 

He wraps the second length of rope around Frank's ankles, and when he cinches it tight, Frank makes a high-pitched sound, a little scared, but also a lot turned on. Gerard checks the circulation in Frank's feet and works his way up, taking the time to massage Frank's calves, pet the soft skin behind his knees, play with the hair on Frank's thighs. Frank's toes curl into the sheets and the way his muscles are highlighted by the tension in his body reminds Gerard of all the anatomical drawings he had to do in college.

Gerard can't help himself, he leans down and kisses Frank, using his lips and tongue to coax Frank's mouth open, exploring the heat of his mouth. He kisses him over and over, until Frank turns his face away with a moan.

"Oh, God, Gerard, I want—" He closes his eyes and shudders, and Gerard can't stop touching Frank.

"You're so beautiful." Gerard traces the line of Frank's jaw, follows a tattoo down his neck, across the sprawling lines of his chest piece. His skin is damp with sweat and it makes him almost golden in the lamplight.

"Fuck, Gerard—" Frank's flushed, but Gerard can't tell if it's embarrassment or arousal. Maybe it's both. 

Frank struggles against the ropes for the first time, wriggling and making a low, needy sound. Gerard is drawn back to Frank's mouth, wet and open, his taste familiar and known. Gerard nuzzles at the side of Frank's face, giving Frank time to safeword out if he needs to, but he just moans softly.

Looking at Frank, vulnerable and exposed as he so rarely is, makes Gerard realize he _has_ to preserve this moment somehow. He leans off the bed and digs into his messenger bag, pulls out his Moleskine. Gerard scootches closer so that they're touching, crosses his legs, and starts sketching.

Frank's a bundle of raw erotic energy; he can't lay still. He squirms and twitches, seeking friction. Gerard is concentrating on his sketch, lost in duplicating the lines he sees with pencil, and he absently pets Frank's belly. Frank swallows back a groan. "Gerard, please—" He's breathless, and Gerard quiets him with another kiss.

Gerard's not satisfied with his sketch, there's something a little off with the proportions. He fiddles with it, unable to silence his internal editor. "Gorgeous," he mutters, looking Frank over from head to toe. "Want to take pictures of you, just to remember this. Show Jamia, so she can see how brave you are."

Frank's breath hitches, and his face reddens alarmingly. 

"Frankie?" Gerard freezes.

Frank simply says, "Pumpkin."

* * *

It takes Gerard less than a minute to cut Frank free and wrap him close in a blanket, holding him while he trembles. "It's hard, letting you see me like that," Frank says, the words garbled by the way his face is smooshed against Gerard's neck. Gerard makes a sound of agreement and urges Frank to take another sip from the juice box. "Terrifying."

"I know, Frank." Gerard's arm tightens a little around Frank's shoulders, pulling him closer. "It's scary to show people who you really are. But if they really love you, it doesn't matter."

Frank doodles circles onto Gerard's chest with his finger. "You really think so?"

Gerard pulls the covers over them and shifts until Frank is resting against him. He strokes his hands down Frank's back, fingers bumping over his spine, loving the feel of warm, solid flesh under his fingers. He gives Frank's question serious consideration. "Yeah, I do."

He _does_. Through ten plus years in the band, wives and kids, dogs, the breakup, solo careers, cats, comics, tours, more dogs, more cats, more _children_ , through it all, Gerard has always loved Frank. Nothing will ever change that.

"Tomorrow I've got meetings, and your lovely wife promised to make me her lasagne, but maybe the day after, we can do this again." Gerard closes his eyes. He's pretty sure Frank's asleep, and he's not far behind—

"Yeah," Frank whispers. "I'd like that."

There's a wrist tie that Gerard is dying to try out, hands behind the neck and a harness around the chest. Frank will look beautiful in it. "Okay," he says, and drops off to sleep.


End file.
